


Not Really A Threesome

by knittersrevolt



Series: The Awkward Bisexual Adventures of Quentin Coldwater [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 41st Timeline, Bisexuality, Bottom Quentin Coldwater, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Julia is at Brakebills, M/M, Mostly Quentin/Eliot, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittersrevolt/pseuds/knittersrevolt
Summary: Meanwhile in the 41st Timeline... Margo is still competitive.“I just… wait so uh… let me get this straight. You want me to critique oral sex technique and see if I can help transfer skills?” Quentin asked incredulously.“Uh huh.” Only Eliot Waugh could possible make those words sound that fucking naughty.





	Not Really A Threesome

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever been so upset about a finale you hate wrote smut? No? Just me?

Oddly enough, even though Quentin felt like he was at the very center of the story, the actual beginning of how the whole mess started didn’t really involve him at all. It really began, as so very many events did, with Eliot and Margo. Eliot was carefully arranged so that he was draped across the sofa alluringly as a small party chattered around him. He was upright enough to keep his drink from spilling, while still looking as casually relaxed as possible. He knew he looked amazing. It was actually taking quite an effort, and no small amount of core work, to keep it going. He was considering standing up to mix more drinks when a ferocious Margo in a skin tight tube dress marched right up to him.

 

“What the fuck, El?”

 

“What the fuck about what, Bambi?”

 

She gestured angrily at him to move his legs so she could sit beneath them. “I just finished giving head to a gorgeous fifth year-”

 

“George? I’ve had him, he is gorgeous.” He languidly sipped from his martini glass.

 

“I know that you’ve had him, Asshat, thus the problem.” Margo’s eyes fumed at him.

 

“Have you had a crush on him for a while? It’s been well over a year, but if I’d known I wouldn’t have. You know I don’t step on crushes lightly.”

 

“Not the issue, and shut the fuck up so I can tell my story. So, I’ve just finished giving this dude a BJ, and I ask if he liked it. Total rhetorical, right?”

 

“Duh, of course he liked it. Continue.”

 

“And he says, ‘Oh my God, it was amazing. Second best head I’ve ever gotten in my life.’”

 

“Oh My God. Who says that? Does he ever want to get sucked off again? Who’s his first?”

 

“My question exactly.” Margo’s eyes narrowed at him. They sparked with competitive rage.

 

“Oh shit, it was me wasn’t it?” Eliot asked. His tone was sympathetic, but not entirely devoid of a bragging pride.

 

“Hence me coming here to ask: What The Fuck, Eliot?”

 

He pulled her in to lay a kiss to her hair. “Don’t take it too personally. Men have dicks, it makes us better dick suckers. Think on it no more.”

 

“Oh  _ hell _ no. If I am going to suck dick, I am going to be the best fucking dick sucker who ever walked. I will not be taking second place to you or any man ever again. Josh, what the fuck are you looking at?”

 

Eliot hadn’t even noticed him standing there with a bong in one hand and a dazed look on his face. He shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure what your conversation is about, but I approve of that message.”

 

Margo groaned and then forced Eliot to his feet so she could drag him some place marginally more private before she continued. The kitchen would have to do. “You are going to teach me, then the student will surpass the master.”

 

“Like, with a dildo?”

 

“No, Asshole. I thought about that and a dildo can’t give us feedback, even an enchanted one. We are going to pick one very lucky man. We’ll both give a performance and then ask him to compare and give notes.”

 

“Has anyone told you that you are freakishly competitive? I mean, like, there may be underlying mental issues surrounding it.”

 

She dropped her tone to an eerie somber note that meant she was nothing but serious. “Are you in, or are you out?”

 

“Oh, I am totally fucking in. This sounds amazing, I just thought we should take a moment to analyze this. Moving on.” They turned in the doorway so Margo’s back was pressed against his front and they both had a clear view of the entire room. He draped one arm completely around her to hold her firmly in place as they scanned the crowd. “Hmmmm… what qualities do we want in our specimen? Attractive, obviously. Bi, again, obvious. On a one to ten slutty scale, what are we thinking?”

 

“Two. No virgins, but we want someone who hasn’t had a lot of partners. I am not risking diseases. He has to be well spoken, someone who can articulate what the difference in technique is. He has to feel comfortable with us, but not be superior to us in any way.”

 

They scanned the room together. Eliot hummed. “Who do we know who would happily receive a double header and not tell everyone about it afterwards?”

 

And then they spotted him. Quentin was sitting in the corner, playing with that deck of cards that was never too far from him. 

 

Bingo. Without a word, just one long meaningful glance, the pair moved in his direction.

 

“Hey, Bitch,” they said in unison.

 

+++++++++++++++++ 

 

Quentin’s room was pretty dull. He’d only moved into the physical cottage two days before, and was still complaining that he’d much rather be above the library with Julia. Or, he had complained the day before, but now that two beautiful people were standing in that room propositioning him he was having trouble remembering why he had ever wanted to be somewhere else. 

 

“I just… wait so uh… let me get this straight. You want me to critique oral sex technique and see if I can help transfer skills?” Quentin asked incredulously. He shifted from foot to foot while nervously smoothing his hair behind his ears.

 

“Uh huh.” Only Eliot Waugh could possible make those words sound that fucking naughty. 

 

“Um, yeah, sure, okay,” he stammered because what the hell else was he going to say? No? He prayed to all the Gods that had ever gone before that he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself and waited for something to happen.

 

The something was Margo pushing him onto the bed, undoing his pants, and clearly trying to suck his brain out through his dick. With deft experience she applied suction and backed off in teasing intervals. One hand massaged him as she bobbed up and down while the other fondled his testicles, or raked sharp nails over his thighs. The ringing of an alarm some minutes later seemed far off though the haze of lust. When the warm mouth left Quentin sat up in time to see Margo sit back on her heels and give Eliot a ‘go ahead’ gesture. 

 

“You set a timer?” he asked after his brain cleared enough to think. Eliot moved into the space Margo had just vacated.

 

“So that it would be even.” Eliot said as if it was obvious and then swallowed Quentin down to the base. Eliot’s smooth broad left hand was a stark contrast to Margo’s tiny grip. As he licked his way down Quentin’s shaft he had to splay his fingers across Quentin’s abdomen so they wouldn’t be in the way. He expertly licked, sucked, and pumped Quentin’s common sense away.  When the timer went off again it was all Quentin could do to keep from crying in frustration. His spit slick dick was an angry red from the mix of attention and denial.

 

Quentin got his breathing under control while the pair looked on from their knees. “Yup, Eliot is better,” he choked out--knowing full well the statement could get him killed. “But, not by a lot. Your hand and mouth movements are nearly identical, really.”

 

“Motherfucker,” Margo ground out, “You had better be about to give some specific examples and solutions or so help me-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, just, let me think for a minute.” Quentin let himself fall fully back on the bed. He had to regain control. If he survived the blow jobs just to cum all over himself from talking about them, he’d never be able to look either one of them in the eye again.

 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it.” He sat back up to look at his audience. It would have been easier if they weren’t still at eye level with his hard on. “Margo, you, uh, suck dick like you’re trying to please your partner.”

 

“Because that’s what I’m trying to do, Dickwad.”

 

“Exactly, and that’s great. It’s just that, um, Eliot sucks dick like he just really wanted to have a dick in his mouth.”

 

Eliot nodded sagely. “That’s a fair point. I do love dick.”

 

Margo turned fully toward him, “You mean to tell me that you genuinely just love cock? Like some mornings you just wake up and think, ‘Gosh, I hope I get a dick in my mouth today?’”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

Margo rolled her eyes back to Quentin, “And you can somehow feel enthusiasm through your penis?”

 

“Not exactly? How do I explain this… there are things that Eliot does that indicate he really likes what he’s doing and they feel good. Like, he kind of hums and moans as he sucks which vibrates and feels really fucking good. And as he pulls back he swirls his tongue around the head and licks the top, like he just loves the flavor.”

 

Margo was nodding, and giving Quentin a grudgingly impressed face. “Alright. I can work with that.”

 

He wasn’t expecting her to dive back in. She gripped the base of him and descended as a warm wet engulfment. This time after she went down to the root she twisted her wrist as she came back up with an aroused moan. Her tongue flicked over the slit at the tip as she hummed in approval. Those big brown doe eyes looked up at him before she descended again with another groan and a pump of her hand, before rising again with a flourishing whirl of her tongue.

 

“Oh holy fuck, that’s so fucking good,” Quentin couldn’t help but moan. He gripped the comforter tightly to keep from moving his hands to her hair. Trying to remember that he was just a learning tool and not an actual object of her desire was a lesson in concentration that he was failing. At some point his eyes had fallen shut. He opened them to remind himself of where he was, but made the mistake of catching Eliot’s blazing eyes. They were half lidded, pupils blown with interest. Quentin moaned again.

 

Margo popped off of him with a wet slurp. “Thanks, bitch!” 

 

She went to the mirror to touch up her makeup.

 

“Feel better?” Eliot was clearly asking Margo, but his eyes never strayed from Quentin’s.

 

“You know what, I do. This was one of my better ideas. I’m going to go to a bar in London and see if there’s anyone worth trying these new skills out on. Want to come?”

 

“Nah. All this dick sucking has made me pretty horny. I think I’ll stay here and fuck Q.”

 

“Oh thank God.” He didn’t want to sound rude or ungrateful, but Quentin’s entire being ached for release. Finishing himself off would have felt, for lack of a better term, anticlimactic.

 

“Okay, suit yourself. Have fun boys. Love you!” And with that she was gone from the room.

 

The room felt charged with desire. He couldn’t wait for Eliot to make a move. Quentin slid off the bed into El’s lap, like the wanton lusty mess he was, and began kissing him. His erection was still completely out in the open between them. Luckily Eliot seemed to match his desperation kiss for kiss as they licked and bit at each other’s mouths. Eliot ripped both their shirts off in between those ravishing connections.

 

In a fiercely hot show of strength Eliot stood straight up with Quentin still clinging to him and deposited them on the bed. Q’s legs fell open to let Eliot slide between them. He left quick stinging bites down Q’s throat and on his chest while his hands worked at removing both sets of pants between them.

 

“Hey Q, have you ever bottomed before?” It was hard to think of an answer while Eliot flipped him onto his stomach. Those gorgeous hands were running harshly over his thighs, up to his ass for firm squeezes and back down again.

 

“No, hmmm, no I have not, but I am so very open to the idea. Like really, so fucking okay with it.”

 

“Good.” His hands left to complete a series of tutts. 

 

“Holy Shit!” Quentin swore as he became slicked. “There’s an actual spell for that?”

 

“Seriously? I would have invented one myself if I hadn’t learned this my first week here.”

 

Quentin quickly realized that while he was now lubed, the spell couldn’t stretch him to Eliot’s specifications. He gripped blindly at the bed and forced his mouth down onto the pillow to keep his obscene noises of approval from echoing off the bare walls. When he was easily taking three fingers Eliot paused behind him.

 

“Actually, changed my mind. Yeah, I think I want some face to face.”

 

He tugged Q up onto his knees then slid around and between them so that Q was straddling him. “Better. Hi, handsome.”

 

“Hi, El.” Now that he could see that luscious mouth he simply had to lean down and taste it again. Acting far younger that his actual age, Quentin humped his cock against El’s just to feel some friction again.

 

“Uh uh uh!” Eliot pushed him upright and tsked at him. He splayed his hands on Quentin’s hips to lift him up. When he was suspended high enough Eliot reached between them to position himself, then let Quentin start to sink down. 

 

Q had always been something of a masochist, and yet he’d had no idea how much he’d like the stinging burn of being penetrated like that. Loud groans spilled out as more and more of Eliot slowly slid into him. By the time he was fully seated he was panting and trying to think of anything other than the fact that he was having sex.

 

“You okay?”

 

“So fucking okay.”

 

“Excellent. You’re going to do something for me, okay Q? You’re going to talk about how much you liked me sucking your cock while I fuck you, K?”

 

“Jesus.” Quentin laughed a little. “You want to hear about how great in bed you are, while in bed?”

 

“Don’t kink shame. I discovered this fetish about 15 minutes ago and I’d like to explore it.” 

 

Eliot was lifting him up again. How the fuck was he supposed to talk about anything with a dick pumping in and out of him? For a minute he was too overwhelmed with sensation to do anything but feel, to enjoy the friction and burn, the slow torturous pace. Eliot began whispering encouragement to him, asking him to start talking.

 

“Fuck. Fuck, fine. Your mouth, fuck, it felt so good. Just the way you took me all - yes, yes, yes- all the way down like it was nothing. God, like you were fucking starving for it. And the way you licked the head, Christ.” He shuddered just thinking about it.

 

The pace wasn’t slow anymore. Eliot was pounding into him, bouncing him up and down. “Yeah, you liked that?”

 

“Fuck, yes, I liked it. And this. Oh, fuck me. God, I wish you could suck me while we fuck.” Quentin made the mistake of picturing it. He imagined Eliot’s beautiful mouth slicking down his dick while still riding on him. He couldn’t hold off any more. He barely got a hand around his cock before he was spilling all over Eliot’s chest. 

 

He was far too lost in the sensations to realize Eliot was faltering beneath him and starting to crest over into his own orgasm. He didn’t fully grasp it until he felt Eliot’s semen begin leaking out of him.

 

“Oh, that’s a weird sensation.”

 

Eliot giggled under him, “You get used to it. Now get dressed. We need drinks. And to never discuss any of this ever again. You know, for Margo’s sake.”

 

After Eliot was cleaned off and out the door all Quentin could think was, “What the fuck?”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I keep everyone in character? Would you like to read more? Any requests for absurd situations? Let me know in the comments!


End file.
